


Finding Honor

by Northern_Lady



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Quest, Suicidal Thoughts, gay Lancelot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: Lancelot goes on a quest to help Squirrel and learns about the meaning of friendship and love.
Relationships: Lancelot & Guinevere, Lancelot & Percival (Cursed), Lancelot/Galehaut
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the mythology Percival marries Blanchefleur and though the two are only friends right now, this story is preparing them towards that eventual future.

The marriage was only a political alliance. Lancelot knew that as well as anyone else who attended the ceremony. Guinevere the Red Spear would ally her warriors with Arthur because he had the support of the Fay and their Queen. Guinevere had a claim to Uther’s throne. This alliance made sense. The marriage made less sense. Arthur seemed as if he rather liked rescuing damsels in distress and Guinevere would never allow herself to need rescuing. Even so, the pair seemed to get along well enough. There was a mutual respect. Perhaps that would be enough. 

Lancelot did not mingle with the guests at the wedding feast. He took a plate of food and found a quiet corner from which to observe. He had never felt as if he belonged at feasts and parties. As a monk he had attended very few such events. Now he was no longer a monk and church people mistrusted him as much as the Fay did. Only Percival, Gawain, and Arthur had accepted his presence. And so he remained in the shadows away from people where he was most comfortable. 

It didn’t take long for Squirrel to find him and join him in the shadows. The boy was quiet today, not his usual talkative self. Usually Squirrel had something to say either happy or complaining or even insults if he were frightened. Today he said nothing. Lancelot couldn’t help but wonder why. He waited patiently to see if the boy would tell him what was troubling him. Nearly half an hour passed without a word between them. 

“What’s wrong?” Lancelot finally asked him. 

“Nothing!” Squirrel said in a bitter tone. “Nothing is wrong. Why would you think something is wrong?” 

“That’s your favorite meat pie and you haven’t had a bite,” Lancelot pointed out. 

“That’s because it’s a shit pie. It’s terrible.” 

“Squirrel…” Lancelot began. “You can’t know that if you never tasted it. If you don’t want to talk about whatever is wrong then don’t.” 

The boy fell silent for only a few minutes before he angrily brushed away a tear. “Do you know where to find Gorman Castle?” He asked Lancelot. 

“It’s to the north coast somewhere. Why?” 

“How far north?” Squirrel asked. 

“A week's ride maybe. What’s at Gorman castle?” Lancelot asked the boy. 

Percival didn’t answer. He got up and put his full plate on the corner of a nearby table and he ran out of the hall. 

Lancelot got to his feet and crossed the room towards Gawain. The man was somehow greener now since Nimue healed him, His hair had strands of green and he seemed happier. At the moment Gawain seemed to be in good spirits. 

“Squirrel is up to something,” he told Gawain, coming up alongside him. “Any idea why he wants to go to Gorman Castle all of a sudden?” 

Gawain ended his conversation and gave Lancelot a look of concern.

“He had a letter from there this morning, a message from his friend Blanchefleur. She’s a girl his age who left our village six months ago to get betrothed to some fat lord’s son. They said she had to go live at his castle for a few years before the wedding and learn how to be a lady. I don’t know what the girl told him but it has to be the reason.” Gawain explained. “Perhaps he just misses his friend.” 

“Perhaps,” Lancelot said unsure. He doubted that Percival would run off for something as trivial as missing a friend. Something had happened to upset him. Something important. He would find out and bring him back. Or maybe he didn’t need to be brought back, maybe he needed help to accomplish something. 

Lancelot went first to Percival’s room. The room was a wreck. The drawers were all open and half empty. Squirrel had packed his things in a hurry and left. A folded paper with a broken seal sat on the unmade bed. Lancelot picked it up. 

_Squirrel, I wanted to write sooner but Lord Gorman wouldn’t let me. He said that I should embrace my new life and forget the past. He doesn’t let me do anything except for read and sing and sew and all the things that ladies are supposed to do. I wouldn’t mind doing things meant for ladies sometimes but I miss riding horses and playing with dogs and gathering eggs with the chickens. Four days ago I went out to the stables in the early morning before anyone was awake. I wanted to speak to the horses just once. I missed talking to them. You remember how I understand them and they understand me? All creatures talk to me. They always have. Anyhow, the livery master told Lord Gorman I had been talking to the horses and Lord Gorman had me beaten as punishment for my Fay witchcraft. I didn’t wake up for two days, Squirrel. Now I’m in a bed and I don’t even have the strength to walk. I hate it here. There’s a visiting knight, Sir Galehaut who agreed to send my message for me. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I never said goodbye. I’m saying it now because as soon as I am able to walk I will walk to the highest tower here and leap from it. There is no other escape from this wretched betrothal. I will always remember you. -Blanchefluer_

Lancelot sighed as he read the letter a second time. Then he headed back to the hall to find Gawain. “His room is empty. He has packed his things. I found this,” he passed Gawain the letter. 

The man read it quickly and then gave Lancelot a worried look. “If Percival tries to rescue that girl it could bring all the armies of Gorman Castle down on us.” 

“It could but rescuing her is still the right thing to do. The boy’s not wrong.” lancelot pointed out. 

“Best inform Arthur and his new wife then,” Gawain said. 

Lancelot approached the head of the largest table where Arthur and Guinevere were seated. He had not been formally introduced to the lady so he decided on speaking to Arthur instead. 

“My lord,” Lancelot stopped at the end of the table and waited for Arthur to acknowledge him. 

“Yes Lancelot, have you met my lady Guinevere?” Arthur asked. 

“Pleased to meet you my lady,” he said, as was expected. 

“And I you. You are the famous Weeping Monk, are you not?” 

“I was. I am no longer a monk.” 

“Good. When my people were attacking Red Paladins I fear you did us great damage,” she said. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “As I said, I am no longer a Monk.” 

“You needn’t be sorry. I was impressed with your skill. I’m glad to not have you as an enemy.” 

“Thank you my lady,” he said. “My lord, I came to speak with you about Squirrel.” 

“Squirrel?” Guinevere asked. 

“He’s a Fay boy about twelve years old, a friend of Nimue’s,” Arthur explained. “What of him?” Arthur asked Lancelot. 

“He’s run off to rescue a friend. I found this letter in his room. I can’t just leave him to handle this alone.” 

Arthur read the letter aloud for Guinevere’s sake. “Lord Gorman won’t take well to having his son’s betrothed stolen away.” 

“We can’t just leave her there,” Guinevere spoke up. “It is a crime to allow any man to beat a helpless girl. I won’t stand for it.” 

“I wasn’t going to suggest leaving her there. I was going to suggest removing her more discreetly,” Arthur said. 

“Then I will follow him,” Lancelot volunteered. “I will make sure Squirrel and his friend make it out safely.” 

“Thank you Lancelot,” Arthur said as the knight took his leave. 

Lancelot didn’t need long to pack a few things and get his horse. He had only just left the castle grounds and entered the forest path to the north Squirrel’s trail when he heard hoofbeats behind him. 

“I’m coming with you,” Guinevere said as she rode up alongside him. 

“I don’t need assistance,” he told her, “No offense intended my lady.” 

“You can skip the titles. We both know I am no lady. Just call me Guinevere.” 

“I don’t doubt your skill in battle but I work best alone, Guinevere.” He didn’t want company on this week long journey. Getting along with people was much more difficult than fighting them. 

“And I work best commanding an army but here I am anyhow,” she said, clearly having no intention of backing off. 

“Why is that? Why are you here?” 

“Because I was once a girl of twelve who was beaten by a man who intended to rule my life,” she said, angry. “I will do whatever I can to prevent that happening to another young girl.” 

Lancelot sighed in a sound that was nearly a growl. “Fine.”

“So you know where he went or are you tracking the boy somehow?” Guinevere asked him. 

“I can smell him.” 

“That’s fascinating. No wonder you were so good at your previous work,” she said. 

“I suppose so,” he reluctantly agreed. 

“Were you able to find more than one person at a time or did the scents all mingle together?” Guinevere asked him. 

“I can distinguish more than one. I can distinguish if they are bleeding or if they have been in contact with others.” 

“I imagine that was useful,” she said rather absently. 

“Yes, I was a very useful killing machine,” he said bitterly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Guinevere protested. 

“Of course it’s what you meant. It’s what everyone means. The only reason the Fay have allowed me to return to them, the only reason Arthur allows me to serve him is because I am useful for hunting and killing. I have no other purpose.”

“I think not. I think it was concern for the boy Squirrel that brought you on this path today.” 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I needed an excuse to justify killing someone else. Perhaps I like it,” he said. 

“As do I,” Guinevere admitted sadly. “But we North people are taught all our lives that there is glory in battle and that there is honor in fighting. If you fight for something good then you should take joy in cutting down your enemies. There is no wrong in it.” 

“That’s Hawkins ahead,” he said, not making a reply to her advice. “Squirrel will have gone through there on his way north. He might even stay a night and we can catch him.” 

They soon entered the walls of the city and made their way towards a tavern. Almost as soon as they dismounted a peasant man came to pester Guinevere. Lancelot wondered for a brief moment if he were going to need to defend her. 

“Get out of my face you scum,” Guinevere told the man and pulled a dagger from her belt. The peasant left her alone and she replaced the dagger. 

Just before they entered the tavern Lancelot caught sight of Squirrel across the courtyard. He headed in that direction, the boy caught sight of him and ran. Lancelot was aware of where the boy had gone when he ducked into an alley. He could smell him, feel him somehow, hiding behind a couple of barrels. 

“Squirrel, you know you can’t hide from me. You might as well come out. I’m here to help,” he said. 

The boy stood up slowly. “You’re not gonna make me go back?” 

“No. I found the letter from your friend. Arthur sent me to help you get her back but we have to do it carefully, secretly, because stealing a girl away from her betrothed can sometimes end in war if it isn’t done carefully.” 

Squirrel nodded. “I know. I don’t care. It’s not fair to make her marry that stupid Luthor Gorman anyway. It was never fair. I didn’t think anyone would help me. I’m sorry I ran off like that.” 

“Come on. We’ll stay back at the tavern for the rest of the night. Lady Guinevere is here to help too.” 

“The Red Spear? She scares me…” Squirrel said, following after him anyway. 

“Me too,” he admitted. 

A short time later Squirrel was asleep in an upstairs room in the tavern while Lancelot and Guinevere sat down in the tavern for a few drinks. 

“This was not how I anticipated spending my wedding night,” Guinevere said as she gulped down her third mug of ale. “Though I am truly glad to have escaped it. Arthur was just as glad. He aided me in exiting the feast out the back. This tavern, a quest to occupy myself, and your company, is far better.” 

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. He was unaccustomed to anyone preferring his company. 

“You don’t believe that?” she asked. 

“No one prefers my company,” he finally said. 

“That can’t be true. There must have at least been some women from time to time…” she hinted. 

“I was a monk,” he reminded her. Monks took vows of celibacy. Everyone knew that. 

“Plenty of Monks don’t keep their vows. That’s why there are so many bastard children running around. Besides, if you ever let that hood of yours down women were bound to notice you.” 

He shrugged. “Then I suppose I never really noticed women.” It was the truth. 

“What about men? Did you notice them?” she asked, drinking more ale. 

That was not a question he could safely answer. 

“It’s alright,” Guinevere said. “You don’t have to answer that. I know it can be a dangerous question. I imagine the church will soon charge you with heresy if they haven’t already just for returning to the Fay. I won’t have you reveal something that would make it worse for you. I will keep your secret.” 

“I never said I had any secrets,” he protested. 

“Lancelot…” Guinevere said sadly. “You do no wrong. Nothing worse than what I have done myself.” 

“You?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Long ago I loved Ingrid the Dane but she is gone and that is left to me is a marriage alliance that can win me the throne that is rightfully mine. If you have no secrets then there must be something you want out of serving Arthur. Lands? Titles?” 

She was asking that if he did not live for marriage and children or faith then what did he want out of life. “I don’t know. Honor maybe. Or just to be worthy of something.” He replied. 

Guinevere put down her mug with a thud and looked him in the eyes. “You already have both. You came to Arthur solely out of concern for that boy Squirrel. Not because of any threat Gorman might be but because you wanted to protect a child. You have honor. You are worthy. I know it.” 

“I don’t feel worthy.” 

Guinevere reached over and took his hand. “Perhaps that is because you’ve been alone surrounded by enemies for too long. That’s no longer the case. Now you have friends. You have friends who will assist you in battle, believe in your worthiness, and keep your secrets.” 

“Then...I thank you,” he said. It was the first genuine offer of friendship he could ever remember getting since childhood. “And I will do the same for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Galehaut did exist in Arthurian legend as a longtime companion of Lancelot and when he died, Lancelot was buried alongside Galehaut. I personally think they may have been more than friends. 
> 
> Also, Percival was the son of King Pellinore but in Cursed he stated that his father was Gullayad so I tried to reconcile those two threads in this fiction.

After an evening of drinking in the tavern Guinevere and Lancelot retired to the room where Squirrel was sleeping. There was only one large bed in the room. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Lancelot offered as was expected of him. 

“Nonsense. I told you I am no lady. There is a chill tonight anyhow. We will put the boy in the middle and share the bed. It’s plenty large enough.” 

The bed was crowded with that arrangement and after a couple of hours Guinevere woke up gasping from a nightmare. 

“God… were you trying to squish me to death?” Squirrel muttered as he climbed out of the bed and spread a blanket onto the floor. Moments later he was snoring. 

Lancelot wasn’t sure it was appropriate to share a bed with Guinevere like this. If anyone knew they would assume a relationship existed that did not exist. She was a married woman after all and he was already in enough trouble without adding accusations of adultery to the mix. He sat up to leave the bed. 

“Wait!” Guinevere reached for his arm before he could go. 

He remained still and waited for her to continue. 

“Are you leaving or just moving to the floor?” She asked him. 

“Only moving,” he told her. 

“Don’t bother. You can stay. I don’t care.” 

“I care. I care about my reputation,” he told her as kindly as he could. “And yours.” 

“The door is locked. No one will know but Squirrel. There might not be a decent bed to sleep on for a few days. Don’t be an idiot. Just sleep.” 

“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly and he lay back down and turned to face away from her. 

A few hours later Guinevere gasped awake in the darkness for the second time. This time she grabbed his hand as she sat bolt upright. 

“Nightmares?” Lancelot asked her as she caught her breath. “That’s why you didn’t want me to leave.” 

“I’ve had them for most of my life. I never sleep alone on my ship. That’s the thing about having an army and people who serve me. I can post a guard outside my door or share my bed with a trusted servant who will wake me. It’s easy to fight real people. It’s harder to fight nightmares.” She was angry about that reality. 

Lancelot lay back down and kept holding her hand. “What did you dream? Does it have something to do with whatever happened when you were twelve?” 

“Yes. I dream of my uncle who took us in when I lost my parents. He was a drunk who beat us on occasion and tried to sell us off in betrothal arrangements that would benefit him with more land. I tried to escape a few times and each time was beaten senseless until I finally learned how to fight back. In my dreams I am still that girl who didn’t know how to fight.” 

“So you’re saying, that at night you want to have a shield to guard you?” He asked her. 

“No. No I wouldn’t say that,” she replied with irritation. 

“Then why post guards outside your door or ask me to stay?” 

“The guards are my friends. Their presence calms me, as does yours.” 

Lancelot’s smiled a little to himself in the darkness. 

“Are you laughing at me?” She asked, having heard the change in his breathing. 

“What? No. I just find it funny that Weeping Monk could bring comfort to anyone. Usually people find me to be frightening.” 

“Well...you’re wrong about that,” she said. 

“I suppose it’s not so bad a thing to be wrong about.” He said and he kept hold of her hand as he went back to sleep.

***

The next day they traveled by horse out of Hawkins and followed the road to the north. Squirrel was still not his usual talkative self and Lancelot realized that this was because the boy was worried. 

“Your friend Blanchefluer must be very important to you for you to go to all this trouble,” Lancelot stated an hour or so after they had set off. 

“I suppose so,” Squirrel agreed. “I would do the same for any of my friends.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Lancelot said, knowing it to be true. “Who taught you to be like that? Your father?” 

“My stepfather Gullayad. My mother joined him when I was five years old. He taught me a lot of things before the stupid Red Paladins killed him!” 

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot said, wondering if he’d had any part in that.

“It wasn’t you,” Squirrel told him as if sensing his thoughts. “I saw it all from a tree where he made me hide. It was Carden and three of his morons. They killed my father first and they killed him quickly because he had a knife and tried to fight back. But my mother… they tied her to a cross to burn her. The cross was laying on the ground. They hadn’t raised it up yet so I jumped out the tree and landed on one of them. Stabbed him right in the eye. Then I cut my mother’s ropes but she told me to run. She wouldn’t come with me. So I gave her the knife and I picked up a sword off the ground to try and get some more of them. I got one through the leg before the third Paladin went after my mother again. She stabbed him in the shoulder and he pulled out the knife and cut her throat. After that I did run…” Squirrel wiped away a few unwanted tears. “I shouldn’t have run.” 

“No, you did the right thing. They would have killed you had they caught you,” Lancelot told him. It saddened him that Squirrel had been forced to witness the murder of his own parents. It shamed him that he had been involved in so many murders just like that. 

“Sometimes I wish they had. I don’t have a death wish or anything. I’m not going to jump off any towers. But why is it fair that I get to live and they don’t?” he asked bitterly. 

“It isn’t.” Lancelot said. “If life were fair, I would be long dead as I deserve. The truth is, only the strong survive. Which is why the strong have to do all in their power to defend the weak. It isn’t fair but we do all we can to make it fair.” 

“What happened to your real father?” Guinevere asked after some silence had passed. “Who was he?” 

“He’s not dead. He is King Pellinore of Listenoise. My mother ran away from him a long time ago and brought me with her because he was very cruel to her. I have a half brother Lamorak and sister Dindrane from my father's first marriage but they aren’t children anymore and I hardly remember them.” 

“So your father is a king,” Guinevere sounded impressed. “My grandfather was a king. Now there are too many cousins fighting over his throne.” 

“I’m not going to fight over any thrones. I don’t want my father’s stupid castle. Lamorak can have it. Why do you want a throne?” Squirrel asked her. 

“Because a throne is a place that can be used to do good. I can use some of that power to make the world a place that is more fair. A place where Red Paladins don’t kill the Fey and rich people don’t horde everything while poor people starve,” Guinevere explained. 

“What will you do? Will you make wealthy people give to the poor?” Squirrel asked her. 

“I will make wealthy people give taxes to me and use those taxes to pay poor folks to build roads and ships and other things that the kingdom needs. If men can earn wages then there is no need to starve.” Guinevere explained. 

Squirrel just stared at her a moment. “You know, you’re not as scary as I first thought you were.” 

Guinevere almost laughed. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Lancelot said. 

Then she did laugh. 

***

They reached Gorman Castle and it was decided that Lancelot would go in alone. He would go in the front door as a traveler seeking shelter and see what he could learn there. If he took more than a day to return then Guinevere would come in after him. In the meantime she and Squirrel would remain camped out in the woods in view of the castle. 

Lancelot was let into the castle by a servant and given a room as any traveler might be given. He was then invited to dinner in the great hall with Lord Gorman, his family, a few guests. 

The hall seemed overwhelmingly empty when he arrived. Lord Gorman was there with his son Luthor, Lady Gorman, two daughters, and another knight who was apparently a guest. 

Introductions were made and Lancelot was told that the Knight was Sir Galehaut. The knight was a very tall man, nearly seven feet tall and he was good tempered, smiling and offering jokes throughout the meal. 

They had hardly finished the first course when a servant stepped in and whispered something into the Lord’s ear. 

“Excuse me, I have an important matter that I must attend to,” the lord got up and left the table. 

“You must not get a lot of guests this far north?” Lancelot asked the lady, just looking for some indication that the girl Blanchefluer was in the castle. 

“No we do not. There is the occasional knight like Sir Galehaut but never someone as famous as the Weeping Monk,” the lady said. 

“I prefer not to go by that name anymore.” 

“Forgive me, you said your name was Lancelot. I am Elaine.” 

Lancelot was vaguely aware during the rest of the meal that lady Elaine was trying to flirt with him. Her children were too young to understand the conversation but Sir Galehaut understood and he remained strangely silent through the whole thing. After the meal had ended, a servant brought him to the room where he was to spend the night. He decided he would have a bath and then he would search the castle in the night for the girl Blanchefluer. 

Lancelot had drawn the water and only just removed his tunic when the knock came at his door. He hesitated to open it. If it were only some servant then there was nothing to be concerned about but if it were lady Elaine he would have to think of some excuse to get rid of her. The knock sounded again. Shirt in hand he went to the door. 

“Sir Lancelot?” It was the knight Sir Galehaut on the other side of the door. Up close the man was taller than he had realized. He was very nearly seven feet tall. He might have been a very imposing man if not for his jolly countenance. “I hoped you weren’t asleep yet. I brought this bottle of wine all the way from Gotland and our host says he will drink nothing from Gotland. It would be a waste to drink it alone. Perhaps you will share it with me?” 

“I was just…” he pointed back towards his bathwater and then gave up. “Sure. Come in.” 

Lancelot crossed the room to the table in one corner and pulled out a chair for his guest. He took two mugs down from a shelf before he realized how Galehaut was watching him. Lancelot slipped his tunic back on before turning to face his guest. 

“You didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” Galehaut said. 

Lancelot was unsure what to say to that so he chose not to address it. He sat down at the table and took some of the offered wine. “I saw your name in a letter from a girl who was a guest here. Is Blanchefluer still here?” 

The big knight smiled. “How noble of you to come and rescue that poor child. Yes, she is still here and she grows more melancholy every day. I told her I would send her letter because I hoped that someone from her family would receive it and end the betrothal. I take it that’s not the case?” 

“It’s not.” 

“It’s no matter. I trust you can get her out somehow,” the knight said. 

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. 

“Fine. I must confess, I came here because I know you. Or I know of you. I saw you once, engaged in battle to the south of here. I watched from a castle window as you took down seventeen Fey guards all by yourself. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had to know if you were the same in person,” Sir Galehaut said. 

“Then I’m sorry for the disappointment.” 

“On the contrary. I see nothing disappointing here. Quite the opposite.” 

Lancelot didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t figure out if the wine was having this much effect on him or if it was the words of his guest. 

“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Galehaut said. 

“No I…” uncomfortable was not the word he was looking for. “I find that I don’t know the proper thing to say.” 

“You don’t need to say anything. The truth is in your eyes,” Galehaut. 

“What truths do you imagine you see in my eyes?” Lancelot asked him. 

“At dinner I saw a beautiful and lonely woman try to gain your affection and your eyes didn’t respond to her at all,” he said. 

“She is a married woman. I am a guest in this castle. Of course I did not respond,” Lancelot argued. 

“I have been a guest in this castle for nearly three months. Lady Elaine flirts with every man who visits here and many of them reject her with their words. None of them reject her with their eyes. They say the words and claim disinterest but their eyes say otherwise. Yours did not. Your eyes tell me you are looking for someone stronger than a feeble maid.” 

Galehaut was right but Lancelot was not ready to reveal such a thing just yet. He didn’t trust him and speaking the truth about this could prove dangerous to him. “This wine you have brought is strong enough. I am interested in that.” 

“Fair enough,” Galehaut nodded and poured them both another mug. “If we finish it, there’s a barrel of ale just across the hall.” 

Lancelot awoke in the morning still seated in his chair with his head on the table. Sir Galehaut was sleeping just across from him and had fallen asleep with his hand on Lancelot’s arm as if he’d been worried that Lancelot would leave during the night. He carefully pulled his arm free and the man awoke with a start. 

“Sorry,” Lancelot said, for startling him. 

“Gods… my head. That was a lot of ale.” 

“Indeed it was. Show me where the girl is and I’ll be on my way. Then you can recover from all the drinking.” 

Galehaut got to his feet and blocked his path. “You can’t leave yet,” the man said worriedly. 

“I doubt you can stop me.” 

“Not with swords but…” Impulsively Galehaut stepped closer and kissed him. “I’ve barely had time to know you.” he said as he pulled away. “Don’t go yet.” 

Lancelot was unable to think clearly for a moment. He needed to get the girl out of the castle. Guinevere and Percival were waiting for him. He had every reason to leave. But now he had a reason to stay. “Come with me then?” he finally found his words. 

Galehaut only thought about it a moment and then nodded. “I’ll pack up my things. I’ll come with you. I’ll be back in an hour.” 

Lancelot watched him go and wondered what changes would come to his life beginning in the next hour.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are we supposed to wait all day?” Squirrel asked Guinevere as they sat by their campsite in the early morning hours. “I still think you should have let me go in. I could have gotten her out. I know how to be sneaky and not make a fuss. I really do.” 

“I could have done it as easily as you or as Lancelot. He went instead of us for a reason,” she reminded him.

“I don’t see how a traveling knight is less suspicious than a traveling lady or child.” 

“You know as well as I do that women and children aren’t supposed to travel alone,” she said. 

“That’s a stupid rule,” he complained. 

“Our world is full of stupid rules. We can’t change them all in one day. So for now we will wait and if Lancelot does not return then I will go in and help him.” 

“And if you don’t return?” 

“I would tell you to go get Arthur and have him come for us but I don’t think you’ll listen to that instruction will you?” She asked him. 

Squirrel smiled. “Probably not.” 

“That is why I want you to watch the castle from that tree over there. If you get up high enough you may be able to see another exit besides the front gate. Watch for people coming and going. If there’s another way in or out then maybe you can find it.” 

“I can do that,” Squirrel moved towards the tree and then stopped again. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to set some traps. Lancelot might need them if he is followed during his escape.” 

Squirrel stayed up in the tree for a few hours watching the castle while Guinevere laid traps on the ground below. He saw a few people come and go out the main gate but saw no other exits. “Someone’s coming.” He called down to Guinevere. “It’s Lancelot. He has Blanchefleur and someone is with him.” 

“Anyone following him?” 

“No. Not yet,” Squirrel said. He watched a moment longer until four men on horseback followed Lancelot out the front gate.”Four men have followed him.” 

“You stay up there!” Guinevere called her command up to him and when she gave a command Squirrel dared so nothing but follow it. 

She picked up the end of the rope she had been working with on the ground. Most of the rope was buried under tree litter. Guinevere climbed a tree of her own and waited for the men to reach them. Lancelot rode into the camp, past the trap, and turned his horse back around to make a stand. He dismounted and left the girl on his horse, handing the reins over to the tall knight at his side. His pursuers rode into camp to find him waiting with two swords in hand. They dismounted and approached Lancelot. They never reached him. Guinevere pulled her rope taut and all four of them were taken up in a net, hanging from a tree together. 

Lancelot was momentarily stunned. “ We need to go.” He called up to the trees. “I’m not sure if these four who were at the gate got the word to anyone else inside the castle of our escape. We may have more followers soon.” 

It was a quick process to pack up the camp and move Blanchefleur to share a horse with Squirrel. 

“Who is your friend?” Guinevere asked as she tied on a saddlebag and mounted her own horse. 

“This is Sir Galehaut,” Lancelot told her. “Galehaut, this is Lady Guinevere and Squirrel.” 

They rode south all day at as fast a pace as they dared to push the horses. By evening it seemed clear that they were not being pursued. They decided to stop and make camp near a stream. Squirrel helped his friend down from the horse while Lancelot set to work building a fire. 

Guinevere began to unsaddle the horses and their new companion set off to gather extra firewood. The girl Blanchefluer took a look around the camp and hugged herself protectively. She still bore faded bruises from her beating by lord Gorman. 

“It’s alright,” Squirrel said, noticing her fear. “You’ll be safe here.” 

“Thank you for bringing your friends for me,” she told Squirrel. 

“Would you really have jumped from the tower?” he asked her. 

She looked down at her feet. “That’s where Lancelot found me. At the tower. He didn’t let me do it.” She glanced over at the smouldering fire that Lancelot had started then she wandered over in his direction. “I want to thank you, sir. I’m sorry if I scratched you.” 

Lancelot absently wiped away the blood from where she had scratched his neck. “I don’t blame you for that. You thought I was preventing your escape, not offering you a different one.” 

She nodded. “I did, but I’m sorry all the same.” 

“It is forgiven,” he said. 

The girl glanced at movement to her right where Guinevere was unsaddling the last of the horses in the shadows. “Wait…” She went a few steps towards the horse with her hand out and stopped to rest her outstretched hand on the mare’s shoulder. “Her friends are coming. She is happy because her friends are coming. She can smell them.” 

“What?” Lancelot asked, getting to his feet, understanding that this was a warning. 

“This is Galehaut’s horse,” Guinevere said. “We’ve been followed.” 

They had their weapons drawn when the party of ten emerged from the trees. Lord Gorman himself rode his horse a few steps ahead and addressed them. 

“Give us back the girl and we’ll let you live,” the lord said. 

“Go away peacefully and we’ll let you live,” Lancelot replied. 

“You’re outnumbered. You can’t hope to beat so many. You had no right to steal away a young maid from her betrothed. Give her back and we can end this,” the old lord continued. 

“I won’t go back,” the girl said, then she turned to Lancelot. “Kill me. I can’t go back so just kill me. Please?” 

Lancelot’s hesitation was visible on his face. He had never harmed a child in all his life. He had no intention of starting now. 

“Squirrel,” he called out, knowing the boy was somewhere near the edge of the stream. “Take your friend and go.” 

For once Squirrel did as he was asked, he helped his friend to mount one of the horses and climbed on behind her and took off. Lord Gorman’s men were already dismounting and surrounding the three companions. Only one followed after Squirrel. So they stood back to back, Guinevere, Lancelot, and Galehaut and waited for the attack. 

Lancelot quickly dispelled the first three who came to his corner. They were only men of household guard, not trained knights. Guinevere hacked two with her axe. Lancelot turned just in time to see Sir Galehaut cut one entirely in half with a massive stroke of his two handed broadsword. There was nothing graceful about the way the man fought, it was not at all similar to Lancelot’s style. Galehaut fought entirely with brute strength. Lancelot watched in awe as Galehaut took down a second man in the exact same fashion. 

Only Lord Gorman was left standing, still on horseback, more accurately. He began to back his mount away. “You haven’t seen the last of me.” He said as he left. 

“We need to get after Squirrel,” Lancelot said. 

“You don’t,” Squirrel came out of the shadows. “That man is still chasing our horse. We walked back.” 

“Good thinking,” Lancelot said, “Except now you don’t have a horse.” 

***

Three nights later the group stopped at an inn in a small village. It was the first time since leaving the castle that they’d sleep somewhere other than on the ground. 

“I have enough gold for two rooms,” Guinevere told them as they gave their horses over to the livery. She had been sharing her horse with the girl Blanchefleur and though she liked the girl well enough, she was glad for a break from riding. 

They entered the dimly lit inn and found that there were tables and drinks being served on the lower floor. Guinevere went to the bar to inquire about the two rooms but had to return to her party with the news that they only had one room available. 

“It’s alright,” Sir Galehaut said almost cheerful. “We’ll leave the bed to the women and children.” 

Guinevere glared at him. “You ought to know by now that I can survive just fine without a soft bed.” 

“Apologies, I only meant-“ he began but Guinevere cut him off. 

“I know what you meant. It’s a poor excuse, claiming chivalry, to hide your true feelings.” Guinevere said, irritated. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lancelot said. 

“Nothing,” she said. She had no reason to be so angry. Except that it wasn’t fair. She had been watching these two men for days. They had been trying so hard to pretend that they weren’t looking at each other. “Only that you shouldn’t have to hide how you feel.” 

“There is nothing to hide,” Sir Galehaut immediately spoke up. 

Lancelot refused to look at him or respond to that statement. He stared at Guinevere as if daring her to push this any further. 

“Don’t glare at me like that,” she told him. “I have eyes enough to see the truth.” She had seen for herself the very few occasions when those two had found excuses to touch one another, a hand on an arm or a shoulder that lingered just a little too long. There was longing between them and they were trying so hard to hide it that it made her sad and it made her angry. They shouldn’t have to hide. 

“What truth?” Squirrel asked. 

“You two, go to the market square and buy us food for two more days of our journey,” Guinevere put coins in Squirrel’s hand. 

“You think this is one of those conversations I’m too young to understand,” Squirrel got up from the table, angry. 

“It has nothing to do with your youth. This is none of your concern. Now go.” She told them firmly. Once the two young people were gone she turned to the men at her table. “I will help you if you’ll let me.” Guinevere told them. 

“With what?” Sir Galehaut asked warily. 

“She knows…” Lancelot began. “She knows that I have no love for women.” 

“Oh,” the knight said but was still wary. 

“Arthur is planning a tournament to take place a week from now. Lancelot, I will give you my favor for it.” Guinevere offered. 

“Wouldn’t you rather compete yourself?” He asked, confused. 

“I can’t. Not openly. Ladies are not permitted. I may do so in disguise but that’s another matter. So you will carry my favor to the tournament. No one believes that Arthur and I are in love. The fact that I ran off with you on the wedding night will only add to suspicions as it is. So you will carry my favor and no one will suspect the truth.” 

“You would do that?” Lancelot asked, a little moved by her offer. 

“I would,” she agreed. “It’s what a friend would do.” 

“And what of your husband Arthur?” Sir Galehaut asked. 

“Until I know if I can trust him, he will remain unawares,” Guinevere said. She didn’t know how Arthur might react to a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman. Until she did know, she would willingly play her part. “People are already going to gossip about why I left on the wedding night and why I don’t share Arthur’s bed. I might as well let them believe in something that helps protect a friend.” 

***

“I have to know,” Arthur asked Guinevere a month after she had returned with Squirrel and his friend Blanchefleur. “Is there something going on between you and Lancelot?” He asked, joining her at a table in her room. The door had been open. 

“What would you do if there were?” She replied. 

“That’s not an answer.” He said, frustrated. “Look, I know there is nothing between us. I thought we had agreed though to keep up appearances that there was. It helps with popular support if people think the king and queen are united.” 

“I know, which is why you sleep in my chambers twice a week,” she reminded him. “The servants spread that sort of gossip of what we’re up to and we accomplish this popular support.” 

“Yes, except last night you weren’t in your chambers. They were empty. For a moment I thought that maybe this rumor about you and Lancelot might actually be true so I went to his chambers. He wasn’t alone. I don’t know who was in there but he wasn’t alone.” Arthur said. “It truly surprised me because I thought...don’t be offended...but I thought you might not prefer the company of men.” 

“You thought that and you married me anyway?” She asked, a bit stunned to hear it. 

“I thought it might make things easier actually. Women are complicated. It’s simpler to just be business partners,” he explained. “I thought eventually we might be friends.” 

“We are friends,” she said. 

“Then what is going on with you and Lancelot?” 

“Nothing,” she said. “Only that he has secrets of his own and I’m trying to help him keep them.” 

“Secrets? So you weren’t in his room last night?” 

“In truth, I did stop by there for a moment but he had another guest and I left.” 

“What other guest?” Arthur asked. 

“It could cause a lot of trouble for him if I told you,” she said simply. Just because Arthur tolerated her preferences didn’t mean he would accept the same of his knights. 

“It could cause a lot of trouble for you if you don’t tell me,” Arthur argued. 

“Are you threatening me?” She asked, gripping her dinner knife a little more firmly. 

“No I’m… I’m not,” he said, calming himself. “I’m just trying to figure out why he is worthy of your trust and I am not.” 

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Guinevere said. 

“Then I will speak to him about it,” Arthur got up to leave the table and then stopped by the door. “A letter came from Lord Gorman. He has formally ended the betrothal of Blanchefleur to his son. He is rather angry but he won’t be sending anyone else after her.” 

“Good,” Guinevere said as she watched him go. She wondered for a moment if she had made a terrible decision in trying to protect Lancelot. This friendship had the potential to undo her alliance with Arthur. She didn’t want that. She only wanted to keep her word and see to the happiness of a friend. 

***

Lancelot woke to the noise of someone pounding on his bedroom door. Galehaut at his side got up quickly and stepped into the bath chamber before Lancelot went to the door. 

“Arthur?” He said, pulling the door open. He stepped aside to let him in. 

Arthur stepped in and looked him over. Lancelot was shirtless and the bed had no sheet. “Who else is in here?” 

Lancelot shook his head about to deny anyone was there and then realized that Arthur was armed and his own sword was leaning against the wall across the room. 

“Look, I don’t actually care who is here as long as it isn’t Guinevere. I need to know that she hasn’t been lying to me.” Arthur said. 

“It’s not Guinevere,” Lancelot said. 

“Then who?” He asked. Lancelot had no reply to that so Arthur pushed past him and headed for the bath chamber. 

Lancelot made a dive for his sword to stop Arthur but on this rare occasion he was too slow. Arthur pushed open the bath chamber door and found Sir Galehaut standing there wrapped in a bedsheet. 

“Oh,” Arthur stumbled back. He looked back and forth between the two men a few times, mouth agape. “Why on earth did Guinevere let me think it was her?” 

“Because I am her friend,” Lancelot said, “And men have been executed for less.” 

“And women have been executed for adultery. She put her own life at risk for you. And you just let her?” 

“I trusted that you wouldn’t kill her for such an offense, that you were a better man than that,” Lancelot said. “Was my trust misplaced?” 

“No,” Arthur said, angry but resigned. “It was not.” He shook his head, hardly able to believe this turn of events. “I’ll be going. Sorry for the intrusion.” 

Arthur closed the door behind him and Lancelot stayed there gazing at the door. Galehaut came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Will he keep it to himself?” Galehaut asked. 

“I think he might,” Lancelot said. 

After they had gotten dressed and Galehaut had left for the day, Squirrel came knocking on his door. 

“What is it?” He asked the boy as he let him in, he was all scratched up and covered in dirt. “What have you been doing?” 

“I was trying to catch an actual squirrel because people keep telling me I can’t be named squirrel if I’ve never caught one. I thought that was stupid but just to prove them wrong I decided to do it anyway.” The boy said. 

“Did you catch one?” Lancelot asked, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the boy actually had caught a squirrel. 

“I had one but then I let it go because I heard something. Arthur and Guinevere were arguing about something. About you.” 

“About me? When? Early this morning?” Lancelot asked. 

“No, just now. Arthur said that she deceived him and he doesn’t care about the reason, only that she lied about you. Did she?” 

“She did in a way. Neither of us thought that it would cause this many problems.” 

“I think she might take her ship and leave. Will you go with her if she does?” Squirrel asked. 

Lancelot shook his head. Leaving with Guinevere would certainly not help the situation. Distance between them would do more to resolve it. He would have to be sure to thank her before she left. “No, I’ll stay here and train the next great knight.” 

Squirrel smiled at that and they headed out to the practice yard for training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not sure anyone actually found honor in this story. Apparently it’s an ongoing quest best left to other tales.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this story was concluded but I just couldn’t leave it alone. So it continues on for a few more chapters anyways, beginning with a flashback and then moving the story forward. Lots of emotional hurt/comfort

The first night back, when Lancelot had returned with Squirrel and his friend, Lancelot and Galehaut hadn’t known what to do. Guinevere had abandoned them as soon as they arrived. They understood why. She had to make an appearance of returning to her husband and she had to find a place for Blanchefleur to be cared for. Squirrel had gone off with her, unwilling to leave his friend until she had a place to go. So the two men had been left standing there in the castle yard, alone. 

Galehaut put his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder as he had many times on their journey thus far, and as all the other times, Lancelot found he was comforted by the gesture. 

“I have a room in the castle if…” Lancelot began but didn’t know what to say. 

“You asked me to come with you. Do you regret it now?” Galehaut asked him. 

“No. Not at all. I just didn’t know how long you wished to stay, not that I wish you to leave. I don’t,” he said, hating that he sounded awkward. 

“I will stay as long as you’ll allow it,” Galehaut said. 

“I’ll show you the way after the livery,” Lancelot said and once they had taken care of their horses he led the way to the chambers that Arthur had given him. He entered the room without a word and occupied himself with removing his swords and hanging his cloak on a hook. 

Lancelot sat down and pulled off one boot but found he had difficulty with the other, having strained one arm in the fight against Lord Gorman’s men. He hadn’t mentioned the injury to anyone. It wasn’t very severe and he had certainly had worse in the past. 

“Don’t do that,” Galehaut said, watching him. “You’ll only hurt the arm further.” 

“But I never said it was injured,” Lancelot said. 

“You think I wouldn’t notice if you are injured? I notice every thing about you,” Galehaut told him, emotion in his deep tone. Galehaut went to him, knelt down and pulled the boot off. 

“You’ll need help with that armor,” Lancelot leaned forward in his chair and helped Galehaut remove his full metal armor piece by piece. He was familiar with how armor was worn. He had never cared for it himself. It was too heavy and it slowed him down. He noticed as he worked that Galehaut’s armor was very well made. It was the armor of a wealthy man or had been bestowed on him by a wealthy lord. He set each piece aside on the floor until the last one was off and Galehaut was down to just his thin tunic for a shirt. He allowed his hand to rest on the man’s shoulder and chest for a moment. Then unsure of himself, he took his hand away. 

“You may touch me there,” Galehaut told him. “Or anywhere. I won’t object.” 

Despite being given permission, Lancelot found that he simply could not move, he couldn’t breathe. So it was Galehaut who instead reached out and touched him. He wasn’t fully aware of where it began or where it ended. He only knew, as Galehaut slid his hands under his shirt that no one had touched him at all in years. There had been no affection of any sort since he was a child. He had told himself for years that he didn’t deserve any affection anyway. He was demon born, evil, and in need of redeeming, which meant he didn’t need things that good people needed. But he had wanted it. He had wanted father Carden to love him as a son or just anyone at all to care as a friend. Sometimes he had wanted it so much that his loneliness and hatred of himself had turned to rage and he had used that rage to fuel his fight against the Fey. Gawain and Squirrel had been the first people to make him see that he could be better and Guinevere had pushed him further on that path. And now, Galehaut was doing something else entirely. Something he hadn’t known was possible. 

“Are you alright?” Galehaut asked him as he caught the hem of Lancelot’s tunic and pulled it off over his head. 

“Yes,” Lancelot breathed the word, unsure if it were even true. He was not alright. The word he needed was not one he even had in his vocabulary. 

“Then come with me?” Galehaut pulled him to the bed and Lancelot went with him. 

Lancelot didn’t really know what to do next so he let Galehaut lead the way. It was only later when they lay in bed naked and nearly asleep that the reality of what his life had been began to come crashing down on him. 

“What are these scars? Who has done this to you?” Galehaut asked him, running his hands over the lash marks on Lancelot’s back. 

“Penance. I did it to myself as penance,” Lancelot told him. 

“For what?” Galehaut was aghast. 

“For being Fey. For being born of the devil and unworthy of redemption by God. For killing my own people… Father Carden said that cleansing the world of those like me was the only way to gain God’s favor. And yet, how could I kill my own brethren, even if God commands it?” Lancelot tried to explain. “So I flogged myself as penance. Father Carden told me I should.” 

“Lancelot…” Galehaut let his hand rest on the scars. “Were you not a child when Father Carden took you?” 

“I was seven.” 

“Then you deserved no such penance. That man abused you and manipulated you into doing his bidding. The evil was his, not yours.” Galehaut said firmly. 

“Maybe at first but after a while I did start to question it and I continued to obey him anyway.” 

“Why? Because you hoped to gain his approval?” 

Lancelot swallowed back the guilt he felt at that question. “I did. I needed his approval.” 

Galehaut shook his head. “No, you needed someone to love you, whether that be God or a priest or a family or a friend. You were lost for a time but you are not he made you. You’re a good man.” 

“How can you really know that? You haven’t known me a month and you already knew of my reputation. What good could you have possibly seen that brought you all the way here?” 

“I could ask the same of you.” Galehaut said. “Did anything other than desire make you invite me here?” 

“I know nothing of your reputation, only that you sent the letter for Blanchefleur to escape her betrothal. Of all things that Father Carden bid me do, I could never make myself harm a child. It meant something to me that you would take the time to help a child,” Lancelot explained. “And in you I saw humor and strength. I have little cause to laugh and though I am fast, I lack your strength in battle… all of those things… they were enough…” 

“And yet you do not believe yourself to be enough?” It was more of a statement than a question. “I will tell you then what I saw of you in battle years ago did impress me. When you entered the great hall for dinner at Gorman Castle in your hood and dark cloak you looked stunning, impressive. The child Sebyle was playing under the table when you entered and Lady Gorman was angry at the little girl’s rudeness. I saw the way you reacted when Elaine forcefully pulled her daughter beneath the table. I saw your stance become more protective, you even reached momentarily for your sword. Then Lady Elaine only scolded the child and you relaxed as well. That’s how I knew when you asked about Blanchefleur that you had come to rescue her. You are a good man Lancelot and you deserve better than what was given to you. Better than what was taken from you.” 

No one had ever framed it like that before. It hadn’t truly occurred to him that the childhood he should have had was stolen from him. Father Carden had done so well in convincing him that he was born of the devil and he had accepted it for so long that he hadn't realized until now how much happiness he had missed out on. Galehaut had shown him for a few brief moments what it felt like when someone cared. He didn’t have to accept the belief that he deserved the sort of utter loneliness he had known before. The truth was, now having a few moments of affection made his previous loneliness and abuse all the more profound. He turned onto his side away from Galehaut, not wanting the man to see his emotional state. 

“Lancelot?” He asked with concern. “Are you crying?” 

Lancelot did not trust himself to answer. If he tried, he might not be able to hold it together any longer. 

“You may cry if you wish,” Galehaut put his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder again. “I will make no judgments on you.” Galehaut pulled gently at his shoulder to get Lancelot to face him. “Come here?” 

Lancelot turned and accepted the offered hug. And he wept, really wept for the first time in his life while Galehaut just held on. 

***

When Guinevere eventually left on her ship as she had threatened to do. To their relief, Arthur ignored what was happening between his knights and even at times sent them on quests together. The knights of the round table had just gathered for a meeting of which Guinevere was once again not present. No one worried much about the lack of her presence. She came and went as she had for months Sometimes she would take her ships and be gone for weeks before returning again. 

“We’ve received word of Vikings raids in the north,” Arthur began. “And to the south Queen Guinevere has been captured by King Pellinore.” 

“What was she doing in Pellinore’s territory?” Sir Bors asked, grouchy as ever. 

“She intended to make an alliance but Pellinore saw her as a threat.” Arthur said. “It doesn’t matter. She was captured alone. Her fleet of ships fled out to sea and her people will return for her within the fortnight. I want us to focus our attention on the Northern raids. Lancelot, you will ride north ahead of us and assess the threat more thoroughly.” 

He didn’t really even hear the king’s instruction. He spoke entirely without thinking. “I need to go to Guinevere.” 

“What did you say?” Arthur asked, the room fell silent. 

“Are you truly going to leave your queen without a sure rescue?” Lancelot asked. “How are the crews of her ships going to help her? They can’t exactly sneak into the castle and they’re not prepared for a siege. Are you truly sending no one after her?” 

“Your sudden concern for Guinevere is much appreciated and though I love our queen dearly, she is but one woman, people are dying in the north. We need to end these raids.” Arthur said. “Her people will do just as well for her as any of us can. Lancelot you will head North on the morrow.” 

No. He wasn’t going north and he very nearly said so out loud. It was only Galehaut’s hand gripping his arm tightly that made him refrain from such outright defiance. He couldn’t abandon Guinevere. She had been a friend and had risked her life to give him a chance at happiness. He wouldn’t leave her to chance. 

“Yes, my lord,” Lancelot said through gritted teeth. 

Galehaut waited until the council had ended and they were outside again on the grounds before speaking. “So when are we going South?” 

Lancelot almost laughed at how well Galehaut knew him. They got halfway across the yard before Squirrel came running up to them. 

“Is it true? The Queen is captured in my father’s castle?” Squirrel asked. 

“I had forgotten he was your father. Yes it’s true.” Lancelot said. 

“Then I’m going with you to rescue her,” Squirrel insisted. 

“I never said I was going to rescue her. The king actually ordered me to go north and help end the Viking raids,” Lancelot said truthfully. 

Squirrel gave him an annoyed look. “I’m not stupid. She’s your friend. You’re not going to leave her there.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to see your father,” Lancelot reminded him. 

“I don’t but he wants to see me. He sends me letters sometimes. He would let you right in the front gate if you bring me.” 

“Alright,” Lancelot agreed. “We leave at first light.”


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning hours the three of them boarded a ship headed south. Sea was the fastest route to Guinevere. If the winds were good and the oars held they might make it in less than ten days. They paid for a small cabin that held only one bed and a straw mattress on the floor. Squirrel took one look at the cabin and dropped his sack of things onto the straw mattress. He sat down on the mat and took out a whetstone and a dagger which he set to work sharpening. 

“If we’re lucky, you won’t need that,” Lancelot told him. Galehaut had wandered off to the galley to find food. The man was always hungry. It was a perpetual problem with him. Galehaut easily ate twice as much as Lancelot and still managed to be hungry most of the time. 

“If we’re lucky, I will,” Squirrel said, something of anger in his tone. 

“Where did you get that dagger?” Lancelot asked him curiously as he noticed the jewels in the handle. “May I see it?” 

Squirrel handed it over to him and watched while Lancelot looked over the jewels in the handle and the fine metalwork woven into the handle. It was a Fey dagger of great value and he doubted that Squirrel had the means as a squire to have obtained it on his own. 

“Where did you get this?” he asked a second time. 

“It was my mother’s. I took it from the Red Paladin who killed her.” 

“When? This is the knife that killed your mother?” Lancelot was a little disturbed that the boy was carrying it around with him. 

“It doesn’t matter when. I saw him by accident and I hid and I waited until he was asleep and I took it. And then…” Squirrel swallowed, as if he didn’t want to tell the rest of the story. 

“Did you use it?” Lancelot asked. It would have been quite the temptation to have his mother’s murderer asleep in front of him like that. 

“No,” Squirrel said, angry at the admission, on the verge of tears. “I didn’t. I was too much a coward.” 

“Percival…” Lancelot said kindly. “You are no coward. You are one of the bravest young men I know. It was your bravery that gave me the courage to leave the Red Paladins at all. You’re not eager to kill and that’s a good thing. Knights are meant to defend the weak and killing is an unfortunate consequence of that but it is not our true purpose.” 

“But he killed my mother and I did nothing to avenge her.” 

“Perhaps someday you will but avenging her will change nothing. You would do more good to use that knife to defend someone else.” Lancelot told him. “Is that why you brought it?” He suspected somehow that it wasn’t. 

Squirrel stabbed the knife into the floor next to him. “I brought it in case I might need it.” 

Galehaut returned to the room just then with a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, two salted fish, a skin of wine, and a bag of apples. 

“Where the hell did you find all that?” Lancelot asked. 

“In the galley. Captain’s daughter let me have everything I wanted,” he said, a big smile on his face as he dropped the items on the bed. 

“I didn’t bring that many coins. How did you convince her part with all that?” 

“With my irresistible charm of course. And I may have let her believe that a certain hungry young weeping knight might have said she was pretty.” Galehaut teased. 

“You didn’t?” Lancelot wasn’t always sure when Galehaut was joking or serious at times. 

“I suppose not, but I could have. She asked about you endlessly. I paid with my own coins but this isn’t going to last long,” Galehaut complained. “Tomorrow when I have run out of food, promise me you will go to her and convince her to give us more food. It would hardly take more than a passing compliment from you.” 

Lancelot shook his head, half annoyed. “No. I’m not doing that.” 

“You would let me starve?” Galehaut asked, horrified. 

“You won’t starve,” Lancelot said, bemused. “And if it came to that I would sell my sword to buy food.” 

“How very noble. And boring,” Galehaut sat down on the bed and broke the wedge of cheese into a small chunk that he could eat. 

“Can I have one of those apples?” Squirrel asked. Galehaut tossed one to him and he began to cut off slices with his knife. 

“That’s a very fine blade,” Galehaut commented. 

“We were just talking about that before,” Lancelot said. “Squirrel brought it in case he might need it. He didn’t say what for. I wasn’t expecting much of a fight. I thought we’d go in, make our greetings, stay to dinner, and sneak out in the night with the queen. We might have to take a few guards down along the way but I don’t expect a pitched battle.” 

Squirrel stabbed his knife into the floor for the second time. “It won’t be that easy. My father will have her under a dozen guards and all the exits will be guarded too.” 

“How can you be sure of that? When did you even last see your father?” Lancelot asked, realizing for the first time that Squirrel knew something he wasn’t sharing. 

“I was five and he broke my shoulder,” he pulled the knife from the floorboards and stabbed into another spot. “I don’t remember why. I think I was playing with something he didn’t want me to touch. He grabbed my by the arm and flung me into a wall. Mother found out and we ran away that night. She tolerated it when he only hurt her but when he hurt me she refused to stay. Anyways, I’m sure it won’t be easy to get the queen because that’s what he does. He’s good at hurting people.” 

Lancelot shook his head. Something still wasn’t right. Squirrel was too sure that they couldn’t get out easily like they had planned, just as he had been sure that they would have no trouble getting in. “How did you know that the queen had been captured?” Arthur had only gotten the message that morning and though it wasn’t unlike Squirrel to hide somewhere and listen in on a meeting, the boy had approached them from across the yard. He hadn’t been there. “Who told you?” 

Squirrel stabbed the knife into the floor more forcefully than the other times. “My father said in his letter that if I don’t come home, he’ll cut her fingers off one by one and then he’ll take her eyes and that’s only the beginning.”

“Squirrel no...we are not trading you for Guinevere,” Lancelot said firmly. 

“You have to!” the boy insisted. “This is my fault. He sent his men to catch me and bring me home lots of times but I’m good at hiding. I hid for two days in the wine cellar last month and they gave up looking for me and went home. If I had just gone with them…”

“That’s where you were? Why didn’t you tell any of us your father’s men were looking for you?” Lancelot had to know. “We would have helped you.” 

“They can’t catch me. They are loud and stupid oafs. I always see them coming and I run. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I should have just gone with them and the queen would be free.” 

“I doubt that you were the entire reason he captured the queen,” Galehaut assured him. “Or else why didn’t your father ask Arthur to send you in exchange for his wife?” 

“He said he did. He said he sent the king a letter too. I guess the king’s answer is no,” Squirrel said. “I didn’t wait to find out. I have to go through with it. I have to.” 

“No. I forbid it,” Lancelot told him. 

“You can’t forbid me anything. You’re not my father!” Squirrel shouted at him. 

“I’m not,” Lancelot agreed calmly, “But since your own father is cruel and is estranged from you, I’m the closest thing you have. Who is it that makes sure you go back to your chambers at a reasonable hour each night? Who sees to it that you eat something other than apple tarts day after day? When your shoes are worn out, who brings you to the cobbler to have new ones made? Who takes hours to train you with a sword every week?” 

“You do, sir,” Squirrel admitted reluctantly. 

Lancelot nodded. “You can not trade yourself for Guinevere. I forbid it. ” 

Squirrel started to cry at those words but they were tears of relief. He hadn’t wanted to go back to his father. Squirrel got up from where he sat on the floor and threw his arms around Lancelot. The knight held onto him until his tears had ended and the boy pulled away on his own. 

“How will we free the queen?” Squirrel asked. 

“I may have a way,” Galehaut spoke up. “The queen’s ships don’t contain enough men to carry out a siege but my armies do.” 

“Your armies?” Lancelot asked. 

Galehaut shrugged sheepishly. “I may have neglected to mention that I am lord of my own keep. I have plenty of men and food resources to carry out a siege.” 

“All this time? All this time you’ve been living in near poverty when you could have been at home in your castle?” Lancelot was stunned. 

“I wouldn’t call it poverty at all and I’d hardly call it home. Home is where you find the people you love,” Galehaut said. 

“Right,” Lancelot didn’t dare make an honest reply to that with Squirrel standing right there. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the boy he just didn’t want to get him into trouble. 

Squirrel had moved back to sit on his straw matt and was whittling a scrap of wood. If he noticed their words, he ignored them. 

“We’ll send a message to my keep as soon as the ship lands. In the meantime we should keep our arrival quiet or the king’s men may come looking for his son,” Galehaut suggested. 

“He’ll probably be waiting at the docks,” Squirrel said. 

“In that case we will have to be creative getting off the ship,” Galehaut said. “Think you can fit in a barrel, boy?” 

The three of them sat in the ship’s cabin making a plan for how they would leave in disguise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of awkwardness ahead but I think it was important that Squirrel know the truth.

Lancelot and Galehaut soon found that one of the most difficult things about being confined to a small room for ten days was being so close and unable to truly be close. It wasn’t as if they were unaccustomed to keeping distant. They always made an effort to do so outside of Lancelot’s chambers simply because it was necessary. They had heard in recent weeks of two men in a village not so far away who had been burned by the Trinity Monks for sodomy, as the church called it. They could put up a good fight and maybe escape if the church accused them but no one was invulnerable. Even Guinevere, warrior and strong woman that she was, had been vulnerable to capture. They had to be careful. 

And they were careful. They didn’t even share the bed. They took turns sleeping on the floor. On the fourth day Squirrel decided to go for a walk on deck because he was bored in the cabin. 

“We don’t have much time before he comes back,” Galehaut commented from where he sat on the bed. 

“I know,” Lancelot said. 

“Then stop pacing and come and sit.” 

They had less time than they thought. They were sitting on the edge of the bed kissing when Squirrel came bursting back into the room, breaking them immediately apart. The boy took one look at them and stopped short. 

“Oh,” he said, looking stunned. “I’ll go now.” At that he ran out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Shit,” Galehaut muttered. 

“Should I go after him?” Lancelot asked. 

“Probably. He’s your son,” Galehaut reminded him, half jokingly. 

Lancelot found Squirrel up on deck tossing pebbles or something from his pockets absently into the water. 

“Squirrel? What made you run off just now?” Lancelot asked him, concerned. 

“I didn’t want to see that,” Squirrel said. 

“You can’t tell anyone what you saw,” Lancelot told him. 

“Why would I tell anyone?” Squirrel sounded irritated. 

“Well you did run off and you do seem rather angry right now. I’m not sure what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m angry because you’re not being very careful,” he said accusingly. “There was a lock on that door and you didn’t use it. What if someone else had walked in? Then the monks would burn you like those two men they got a few weeks ago. I don’t care who you kiss but don’t be stupid about it!” 

“Point taken,” Lancelot agreed. “Are you staying up here a while?” 

“I’m staying up here for at least an hour.” The boy said, still annoyed. “One time I walked in on my mother and stepfather and I will never do that again. It’s too disgusting.” 

Lancelot went back to Galehaut and left Squirrel on deck. 

“He’s alright. He’s staying on deck for an hour.” Lancelot told him and he turned and locked the door.

***

The cell that held Guinevere was sparsely furnished. She was granted a feather mattress on the floor, blankets, a bucket of water and tin cup, and a slop pail. There was light from a window near the ceiling and someone brought her food twice a day. She was still bruised from her initial capture but was otherwise unharmed. It had been almost two weeks of this meaningless stupid imprisonment and she was growing angrier with every day that passed. 

The cell door clicked open and her usual guard was followed by King Pellinore himself. The man was tall and broad shouldered but he shared his son’s sandy hair and ear shape. Guinevere could see the obvious resemblance to Squirrel. This was the second time the man had come to visit her. 

“Your husband sent word.” Pellinore said. “He demands that I send you back but he will not give me my son.” 

“As he should,” Guinevere said. The last thing she wanted was to hand Percival over to this man. Arthur wouldn’t have wanted that either. 

“It is a crime to keep a man from his son,” Pellinore said. “Will your husband truly make you pay for his crimes? It would be unfortunate to marr that pretty face of yours.” 

“I do not fear your threats,” Guinevere told him honestly. 

“You should. I could cause you a great deal of pain. It won’t come to that if you can convince your husband to return my son to me. You will write him a letter of your own.” 

“I will not,” Guinevere said. 

Pellinore shook his head. “Fine. Sir Derek, you may begin.” 

The guard Derek took a tool from his pocket, a dentist tool. 

“Which tooth should I take, my lord?” He asked dully. 

“One of the back teeth. Don’t ruin her smile just yet.” The king instructed. 

Guinevere stiffened as Sir Derek approached her. She wasn’t going to endure this without a fight. 

***

Galehaut had left the cabin once again in search of food and Squirrel was on deck again for a walk. Lancelot’s moment alone was interrupted by Squirrel running back into the cabin. 

“There’s land ahead. One of my father’s ships is in the harbor!” 

“Are you sure?” Lancelot asked. 

“It’s his sigil. It’s him. We’ll be ashore in an hour. Do we have a barrel?” 

“We do. It’s up on deck. We’re putting food and water on there with you and Galehaut is going to help unload all the cargo including you while I go ashore and find us a room. You’ll both meet us there later after the cargo is all unloaded.” Lancelot explained. 

“We might have a problem,” Galehaut came into the room carrying more food. “One of Arthur’s ships is in the harbor.” 

“Maybe he is here for the Queen” Lancelot suggested. 

“Or maybe he sent someone to stop us from interfering.” Galehaut pointed out. 

“What if the king changed his mind and decided he will trade me for Guinevere?” Squirrel asked. 

“Change of plans,” Galehaut said with a sigh. “I will unload the cargo as planned and will leave Squirrel’s barrel marked by the docks. Then I will go to Arthur’s ship and see what he wants. I can even offer my men to aid in a siege if it seems that it will help our cause. Lancelot, you will return and get the boy after dark when the docks are no longer being watched.” 

“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly. Lancelot really didn’t have anything better to offer as a plan.

It seemed like a very long while waiting for dark. Lancelot wondered if Squirrel was afraid, being trapped alone in a barrel. The boy would likely never admit it if he were. Eventually nightfall did come and Lancelot went and freed Squirrel from his prison. The boy was definitely relieved to get out of the barrel and followed him quietly back to the tavern where a room was ready for them. They had nearly arrived when Squirrel suddenly stopped short and then dove into the shadows out of sight of two men on horseback riding down the street ahead. Lancelot followed his lead ducked into the shadows with him. 

“You know those men?” Lancelot asked. 

“My father’s guards.”

They waited until the men had gone and then crossed the street to the tavern. Inside was a large common area with rough tables and benches and patrons sitting around drinking. A young man of eighteen or twenty years of age sat at one of those tables drinking and laughing. He had a black eye and scratches on his arms but the injuries did nothing to lesson his cheerful mood. Squirrel stopped short at the sight of him. 

“Percival?” The young man got to his feet and came towards them. Squirrel didn’t run but Lancelot was on edge all the same, not knowing who this man was. “It’s good to see you little brother!” He bent down and hugged Squirrel tightly and the boy seemed to allow it. “You need to hide. Father is looking for you.” 

“We’re working on it,” Lancelot said. “You must be Lamorak?” he remembered Squirrel mentioning his half brother’s name. 

“Did Father do that to you?” Squirrel indicated the bruises that Lamorak bore. 

“I’m alright. It’s actually been years since he did anything like this. Until today anyhow. We had a little disagreement is all.” 

“About what?” Squirrel asked. 

“We need to get out of sight,” Lancelot reminded him. “He can come with us if you want to keep talking.” Squirrel’s brother was just one man. If he ended up being someone they couldn’t trust, he could handle just one man. 

Lamorak followed them up to their room. It was a small room and the one window had a view of Pellinore castle. 

“What did you disagree about?” Squirrel asked as Lancelot shut the door. 

“About you actually. And about a lady prisoner that he wanted me to torture. I wouldn’t do it. He said that my refusal was proof that he raised a coward and he wanted to disinherit me and try to do better with his younger son,” Lamorak said. “He’s been saying that for years though. I keep telling him it won’t work. Cowards can only raise cowards. That’s when he punched me in the face. I don’t care much. I’ve had worse.”

“So you’re not going to bring Percival back to his father?” Lancelot asked. 

“Gods no. I wouldn’t bring that man a dog I didn’t like,” Lamorak said emphatically. 

“So Queen Guinevere is there? Is she is alright? And what about our sister? Where is she?” The questions began pouring out of Squirrel. 

Lancelot let them catch up while he waited for Galehaut to return. He couldn’t be sure that he would return at all.


	7. Chapter 7

The last thing Galehaut expected when he boarded the King’s ship was to find the king himself aboard. 

“Sir Galehaut,” Arthur said, as if he had been awaiting his arrival. “I assume Lancelot and Percival are hidden somewhere nearby.” 

“I didn’t expect to find you here my lord,” Galehaut dodged the question entirely. 

“I did expect to find you,” Arthur said, angry. “Despite this being the opposite direction of where I commanded you to go.” 

“To be truthful, my liege, this is the opposite of where you sent Lancelot,” Galehaut corrected. 

“And you go wherever Lancelot goes. Where is he?” 

“He is seeing to the safety of young Percival,” the knight said. 

“By bringing the boy right into the shadow of his father’s castle? Yes, he’ll be quite safe here.” Arthur said with sarcasm. 

Galehaut sighed and gathered his thoughts a moment. “What can I do to assist you my lord? I can offer the aid of my vassals in laying siege to the castle if you wish.” 

Arthur’s stance softened. “How many vassals?” 

“Near three thousand,” he said. 

“Is that what you came here to do? To free the queen with your men?” 

“Of course my lord,” Galehaut said, knowing it was the only answer that would save them now. “The boy Squirrel begged to come along so we let him. He’ll be safe with Lancelot though.” 

“I thought I would have to go in there and talk to Pellinore with no recourse to get out if he takes me captive too. How long will it take your men to get here?” 

“A few weeks at most.” 

“I don’t think we have that long,” Arthur said. “Where is Percival? We might need him.” 

“For what?” Galehaut could not answer that question. If he let anything happen to that boy, Lancelot would probably kill him. 

“Only to get the gates open and to see what he knows. There’s no way we would bring him in,” Arthur explained. 

Galehaut was unsure that he cared for this plan. “If we bring him to the gates, his father will send someone out to chase after him.” 

“Yes and we’ll put him on our fastest horse and clear a path to the ship. Or we won’t if Pellinore will open the gates on his own. I just need to know where he is.” 

“Please do not ask me that, my lord,” he said sadly. “I fear it is a question I can not answer.” 

“Sir Galehaut, it is a question I must ask. Guinevere’s life may depend on it.” Arthur said. “I promise you, no harm will come to the boy.” 

“Come with me then, just you sire, and you can speak to him,” Galehaut offered. It was the only solution he could think of. 

***

Lancelot was startled by the knock on the door. He had fallen asleep in his chair while Squirrel sat talking with his brother. Apparently their sister was married now and happy to be away from their father and many of Squirrel’s favorite servants still lived. He had fallen asleep before hearing much more. Now he got to his feet and answered the door. 

“Galehaut,” he said with relief, “My lord.” He said more humbly on seeing Arthur. 

“You are supposed to be in the North.” Arthur said as he entered the room. “Not here. It’s not your job to free Guinevere. It’s mine.” 

“You didn’t make it clear that you planned to free her,” Lancelot said in his own defense. “Someone had to go and it seemed that it wouldn’t be you.” 

“That’s because Guinevere wasn’t here to make an alliance. She stopped at the harbor to resupply,” Arthur explained. “Someone told Pellinore she would be there. I don’t know who told him and I didn’t dare inform anyone in the court of my plans to free her or else the traitor might inform him of that too.” 

“Well, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t either of us,” Lancelot said. 

“I know,” Arthur said. “You happily disobey your king if you believe your king is wrong but you are no spy.” 

“Thank you my lord,” Lancelot said with relief. 

“Yes, well, you’re not exactly welcome,” Arthur said, having not entirely forgiven him yet. “I came to see Squirrel.” 

Lancelot stiffened his stance, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“Take it easy,” Arthur said, annoyed. “I’m not trading him for Guinevere. I just have questions I need answered.” 

Lancelot stepped aside to let Arthur through. 

“I know it’s been years since you’ve been here Percival but can you tell me anything about the layout of your Father’s castle?”

“I can,” Lamorak spoke up. “He’s my father too. In fact, now that you have two of his sons in the same room, you could trade the elder one to get your queen back.” 

“We could,” Arthur was pleased at this unexpected development. “That would make things a lot easier.” 

“No!” Squirrel spoke up. “Lamorak you can’t. Father will beat you for getting captured at all. He will blame you that I didn’t come back.” 

“He won’t hurt me any more than any of the other times,” Lamorak argued. “And if I don’t do this, he will hurt your queen further.” 

“Further?” Arthur asked. “What has he already done?” 

“Taken some teeth, torn out some hair, he threatened rape but I don’t know that he went that far,” Lamorak said. “He wanted me to help him with that but I took a black eye instead.” 

“Draw me a map of the castle,” Lancelot said. “I will go and make the offer for trade and if there is an opportunity to get her out on my own, I will take it. If not, I will return with whatever offer he agrees to.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” Arthur said. 

“You can’t go in yourself. You’re the king. Besides, I have a better chance of fighting my way out if it comes to it,” Lancelot said. 

“Fine,” Arthur agreed. “Lamorak draw your map.” 

They found some paper and a quill and he set to work.


End file.
